waiting bruise

As I watch the sky turn from slate grey to navy blue
meandering green in the middle,
my thoughts form to fill the spots in-between
sworn lover’s vows ringing in the firmament
this cool, dark air leaves me wondering
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I’d rather love balmy words blithely pronounced
on naked evening’s revelry
whispered most fair in earnest covenant.
But the spaces barely there expound come morning
seeping memory in shades of deepest bruise.

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